Read Ebook: Amadis of Gaul Vol. 2 by Lobeira Vasco De Rodr Guez De Montalvo Garci Contributor Southey Robert Translator

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While Amadis remained with his comrades at the court of Sobradisa, his thoughts were perpetually fixed upon his Lady Oriana; and, so thoughtful was he, and so often, both sleeping and waking, was he in tears, that all saw how he was troubled, yet knew they not the cause, for he kept his love silent, as a man who had all virtues in his heart. At length, not being able to support a longer absence, he asked permission of the fair young Queen to depart, which she not without reluctance having granted, loving him better than herself, he and his brethren and their cousin Agrayes took the road towards King Lisuarte. Some days had they travelled when they came to a little church, and entering there to say their prayers, they saw a fair Damsel, accompanied by two others, and by four Squires, who guarded her, coming from the door. She asked them whither they went. Amadis answered, Damsel, we go to the court of King Lisuarte, where, if it please you to go, we will accompany you. Thank you, quoth the Damsel, but I am faring elsewhere. I waited, because I saw you were armed like Errant Knights, to know if any of you would go and see the wonders of the Firm Island, for I am the Governor's daughter, and am returning there. Holy Mary! cried Amadis, I have often heard of the wonders of that island, and should account myself happy if I might prove them, yet till now have I never prepared to go! Good Sir, quoth she, do not repent of your delay; many have gone there with the same wish, and returned not so joyfully as they went. So I have heard, said Amadis: tell me, would it be far out of our road if we went there?--Two days journey.--Is the Firm Island then in this part of the sea, where is the enchanted Arch of True Lovers, under which neither man nor woman can pass that hath been false to their first love? The Damsel answered, it is a certain truth, and many other wonders are there. Then Agrayes said to his companions, I know not what you will do, but I will go with this Damsel, and see these wonderful things. If you are so true a lover, said she, as to pass the enchanted Arch, you will see the likenesses of Apolidon and Grimanesa, and behold your own name written upon a stone, where you will find only two names written besides, though the spell hath been made an hundred years. In God's name let us go, quoth Agrayes, and I will try whether I can be third. With that, Amadis, who in his heart had no less desire and faith to prove the adventure, said to his brethren, we are not enamoured, but we should keep our cousin company who is, and whose heart is so bold. Thereto they all consented, and set forth with the Damsel. What is this island? said Florestan to Amadis, tell me, Sir, for you seem to know. A young Knight whom I greatly esteem, replied Amadis, told me all I know; King Arban of North Wales: he was there four days, but could accomplish none of the adventures, and so departed with shame. The Damsel then related the history of the enchantments, which greatly incited Galaor and Florestan to the proof.

So they rode on till sunset, and then entering a valley, they saw many tents pitched in a meadow, and people sporting about them, and one Knight, richly apparelled, who seemed to be the chief. Sirs, quoth the Damsel, that is my father: I will go advertise him of your coming, that he may do you honour. When he heard of their desire to try the enchantment, he went on foot with all his company to welcome them, and they were honourably feasted and lodged that night. At morning they accompanied the Governor to his castle, which commanded the whole island, for at the entrance there was a neck of land, only a bow-shot over, connected with the main land, all the rest was surrounded by the sea; seven leagues in length it was, and five broad, and because it was all surrounded by the sea, except where that neck of land connected it with the continent, it was called the Firm Island. Having entered, they saw a great palace, the gates whereof were open, and many shields hung upon the wall; about an hundred were in one row, and above them were ten, and above the ten were two, but one of them was in a higher niche than the other. Then Amadis asked why they were thus ranked. The Governor answered, according to the prowess of those who would have entered the Forbidden Chamber; the shields of those who could not enter the perron of copper, are near the ground; the ten above them are of those who reached it; the lowest of the two passed that perron, and the one above all reached to the marble perron, but could pass no farther. Then Amadis approached the shields to see if he knew them, for each had its owner's name inscribed; the one which was the highest of the ten bore a sable lion, with argent teeth and nails, and a bloody mouth, in a field sable: this he knew to be the shield of Arcalaus. Then he beheld the two uppermost; the lower bore, in a field azure, a Knight cutting off the head of a Giant; this was the shield of King Abies of Ireland, who had been there two years before his combat with Amadis: the highest had three golden flowers in a field azure: this he knew not, but he read the inscription, This is the shield of Don Quadragante, brother to King Abies of Ireland. He had proved the adventure twelve days ago, and had reached the marble perron, which was more than any Knight before him had done, and he was now gone to Great Britain to combat Amadis, in revenge for his brother's death. When Amadis saw all these shields, he doubted the adventure much, seeing that such Knights had failed.

They went out from the palace towards the Arch of True Lovers. When they came near, Agrayes alighted and commended himself to God, and cried, Love, if I have been true to thee, remember me! and he past the spell; and, when he came under the arch, the Image blew forth sweet sounds, and he came to the palace, and saw the likeness of Apolidon and Grimanesa, and saw also the jasper-stone, wherein two names were written, and now his own the third. The first said, Madanil, son of the Duke of Burgundy, atchieved this adventure: and the second was, this is the name of Don Bruneo of Bonamar, son to Vallados, Marquis of Troque: and his own said, this is Agrayes, son to King Languines of Scotland. This Madanil loved Guinda, Lady of Flanders. Don Bruneo had proved the enchantment but eight days ago, and she whom he loved was Melicia, daughter to King Perion, the sister of Amadis.

When Agrayes had thus entered, Amadis said to his brethren, will ye prove the adventure? No, said they, we are not so enthralled that we can deserve to accomplish it. Since you are two, then, quoth he, keep one another company, as I, if I can, will do with my cousin Agrayes. Then gave he his horse and arms to Gandalin, and went on without fear, as one who felt that never in deed or in thought had he been faithless to his Lady. When he came under the arch, the Image began a sound far different and more melodious than he had ever before done, and showered down flowers of great fragrance from the mouth of the trumpet, the like of which had never been done before to any Knight who entered. He past on to the Images, and here Agrayes, who apprehended something of his passion, met him and embraced him, and said, Sir, my Cousin, there is no reason that we should henceforth conceal from each other our loves. But Amadis made no reply, but taking his hand, they went to survey the beauties of the garden.

Don Galaor and Florestan, who waited for them without, seeing that they tarried, besought Ysanjo, the Governor, to shew them the Forbidden Chamber, and he led them towards the perrons. Sir brother, said Florestan, what will you do? Nothing, replied Galaor: I have no mind to meddle with enchantments. Then amuse yourself here, quoth Florestan, I will try my fortune. He then commended himself to God, threw his shield before him, and proceeded sword in hand. When he entered the spell, he felt himself attacked on all sides with lances and swords, such blows and so many that it might be thought never man could endure them; yet, for he was strong and of good heart, he ceased not to make his way, striking manfully on all sides, and it felt in his hand as though he were striking armed men, and the sword did not cut. Thus struggling, he passed the copper perron, and advanced as far as the marble one, but there his strength failed him, and he fell like one dead, and was cast out beyond the line of the spell. When Galaor saw this he was displeased, and said, however little I like these things, I must take my share in the danger! and bidding the Squires and the Dwarf to stay by Florestan, and throw cold water in his face, he took his arms and commended himself to God, and advanced towards the Forbidden Chamber. Immediately the unseen blows fell upon him, but he went on, and forced his way up to the marble perron, and there he stood; but, when he advanced another step beyond, the blows came on him so heavy a load, that he fell senseless, and was cast out like Florestan.

Amadis and Agrayes were reading the new inscription in the jasper, This is Amadis of Gaul, the true lover, son to King Perion,--when Ardian the Dwarf came up to the line, and cried out, Help! help, Sir Amadis, your brothers are slain! They hastened out to him, and asked how it was.--Sir, they attempted the Forbidden Chamber, and did not atchieve it, and there they lie for dead! Immediately they rode towards them, and found them so handled as you have heard, albeit some little recovering. Then Agrayes, who was stout of heart, alighted and went on as fast as he could to the Forbidden Chamber, striking aright and aleft with his sword, but his strength did not suffice to bear the blows, he fell senseless between the perrons, and was cast out as his cousins had been. Then Amadis began to curse their journey thither, and said to Galaor, who was now revived, Brother, I must not excuse my body from the danger which yours have undergone. Galaor would have withheld him, but he took his arms, and went on, praying God to help him. When he came to the line of the spell, there he paused for a moment, and said, O Oriana, my Lady, from you proceeds all my strength and courage! remember me now at this time, when your dear remembrance is so needful to me! Then he went on. The blows fell thick upon him and hard till he reached the marble perron, but then they came so fast as if all the Knights in the world were besetting him, and such an uproar of voices arose as if the whole world were perishing, and he heard it said, if this Knight should fail, there is not one in the world who can enter. But he ceased not to proceed, winning his way hardly, sometimes beaten down upon his hands, sometimes falling upon his knees; his sword fell from his hand, and, though it hung by a thong from the wrist, he could not recover it, yet holding on still he reached the door of the chamber, and a hand came forth and took him by the hand to draw him in, and he heard a voice which said, Welcome is the Knight who shall be Lord here, because he passeth in prowess him who made the enchantment, and who had no peer in his time. The hand that led him was large, and hard, like the hand of an old man, and the arm was sleeved with green sattin. As soon as he was within the chamber it let go his hold, and was seen no more, and Amadis remained fresh, and with all his strength recovered; he took the shield from his neck and the helmet from his head, and sheathed his sword, and gave thanks to his Lady Oriana for this honour, which for her sake he had won. At this time they of the castle who had heard the voices resign the lordship, and seen Amadis enter, began to cry out, God be praised, we see accomplished what we have so long desired. When his brethren saw that he had atchieved that wherein they had failed, they were exceedingly joyful, because of the great love they bore him, and desired that they might be carried to the chamber; and there the Governor with all his train went to Amadis, and kissed his hand as their Lord. Then saw they the wonders which were in the chamber, the works of art and the treasures, such that they were amazed to see them. Yet all this was nothing to the chamber of Apolidon and Grimanesa, for that was such, that not only could no one make the like, but no one could even imagine how it could be made; it was so devised, that they who were within could clearly see what was doing without, but from without nothing could be seen within. There they remained some time with great pleasure; the Knights, because one of their lineage was found to exceed in worth all living men, and all who for a hundred years had lived: the islanders, because they trusted to be well ruled and made happy under such a Lord, and even to master other lands. Sir, quoth Ysanjo, it is time to take food and rest for to-day: to-morrow, the good men of the land will come and do homage to you. So that day they feasted in the palace, and the following day all the people assembled and did homage to Amadis as their Lord, with great solemnities and feasting and rejoicing.

The Spanish Writer moralizes here a little upon the mutability of fortune.

My frantic grief, accompanied by so great a reason, causes my weak hand to declare what my sad heart cannot conceal against you, the false and disloyal Knight, Amadis of Gaul; for the disloyalty and faithlessness are known which you have committed against me, the most ill-fortuned and unhappy of all in the world, since you have changed your affection for me, who loved you above all things, and have placed your love upon one who by her years cannot have discretion to know and love you. Since then I have no other vengeance in my power, I withdraw all that exceeding and misplaced love which I bore towards you; for great error would it be to love him who has forsaken me, when in requital for my sighs and passion I am deceived and deserted. Therefore, as the wrong is manifest, never appear before me! for be sure the great love I felt is turned into raging anger. Go, and deceive some other poor woman as you deceived me with your treacherous words, for which no excuse will be received, while I lament with tears my own wretchedness, and so put an end to my life and unhappiness.

Having thus written, she sealed the letter with the seal of Amadis, and wrote on the superscription, I am the Damsel wounded through the heart with a sword, and you are he who wounded me. She then secretly called a Squire, who was named Durin, and was brother to the Damsel of Denmark, and bade him not rest till he had reached the kingdom of Sobradisa, where he would find Amadis; and she bade him mark the countenance of Amadis while he was reading the letter, and stay with him that day, but receive no answer from him, if he wished to give one.

Durin, in obedience to the command of Oriana, presently departed, and hasted so well that on the tenth day he arrived at Sobradisa, where he found the new Queen Briolania, whom he thought the fairest woman, except Oriana, that ever he had seen; and learning from her that Amadis had departed two days before, he followed him, and reached the Firm Island just as Amadis was passing under the Arch of True Lovers, and so he beheld how the Image did more for him than ever it had done for any other. And though he saw Amadis after he came forth to his brethren, yet he did not speak with him, nor give him the letter, till after he had entered the Forbidden Chamber, and been received by all as Lord of the island. This he did by Gandalin's advice, who, knowing the letter to be from Oriana, feared that it might cause his Master either to forslow or fail in the atchieving of so great an enterprise, for he would not only have left off the conquest of the Firm Island, but also of the whole world, to fulfil what she had commanded; but, when every thing was finished, Durin went before him, and Amadis took him apart from his brethren and from all others into a garden, and asked him if he came from the court of King Lisuarte, and what tidings. Sir, said he, the court is as when you left it: I come from thence by the command of my Lady Oriana; by this letter you will know the cause of my coming. Amadis took the letter, and he concealed the joy that was in his heart, that Durin might know nothing of his secret; but his grief he could not conceal when he had read those strong and bitter words, for neither his courage nor reason could support him then, for he seemed struck with death. When Durin saw him so disordered, he cursed himself and his ill fortune, and death, that had not overtaken him on the way. Amadis, for he could not stand, sate down upon the grass, and took the letter which had fallen from his hands, and, when he saw the superscription, again his grief became so violent that Durin would have called his brethren, but feared to do so, observing what secrecy Amadis had chosen. Presently Amadis exclaimed, O Lord, wherefore does it please thee that I should perish, not having deserved it! and then again, Ah, truth, an ill guerdon dost thou give him who never failed thee! Then he took the letter again, saying, you are the cause of my unhappy end; come here, that it may be sooner! and he placed it in his bosom. He asked Durin if he had aught else to say; and hearing that he had not, replied, well then thou shalt take my answer. Sir, quoth he, I am forbidden to receive any.--Did neither Mabilia nor thy sister bid thee say any thing?--They knew not my coming: my Lady commanded me to conceal it from them.--Holy Mary help me! I see now my wretchedness is without remedy. He then went to a stream that proceeded from a fountain, and washed his face and eyes, and bade Durin call Gandalin, and bid him bring Ysanjo the Governor; and he said to the Governor, promise me, as you are a loyal Knight, to keep secret all that you shall see till after my brothers have heard mass to-morrow; and the same promise he exacted from the two Squires. Then he commanded Ysanjo to open privately the gate of the castle, and Gandalin to take his horse and arms out, privately also. This done they left him, and he remained alone, thinking upon a dream which he had dreamt the last night, wherein it seemed, that being armed and on horseback he was on a hill covered with trees, and many persons round about him making great joy; when a man from amongst them presented him a box, saying, Sir, taste what I bring you; which he did, and it was exceeding bitter; and therewith feeling himself cast down and disconsolate, he loosed the reins of his horse, and let him go whither he would; and he thought that the mirth of all around him was changed into such sorrow as was pitiful to behold; but his horse carried him far away from them, and took him through the trees to a rocky place surrounded with water; and then it seemed in his dream that he left his horse and arms, as if by that he would have had rest, and there came to him an old man in a religious habit, and took him by the hand as if he had compassion, and spoke to him in a language which he did not understand, whereupon he awoke. Upon this dream Amadis now mused, thinking that he now found it true.

Then hiding his face from his brethren, that they might not see his trouble, he went to the castle-gate, which the sons of Ysanjo had opened. Come you with me, said Amadis to the Governor, and let your sons remain here, and keep this matter secret. So they went to the foot of the rock, where there was a little chapel, and Gandalin and Durin went with them. There he armed himself, and asked the Governor to what saint that chapel was dedicated.--To our Lady the Virgin, who hath wrought many miracles here. Hearing this, Amadis went in and knelt down, and said, weeping, Our Lady Virgin Mary, the consoler and helper of those that are afflicted, I beseech you to intercede with your glorious Son, that he may have mercy on me; and, if it be your will not to help me in my body, have mercy on my soul in these my last days, for other thing than death I do not hope. He then called Ysanjo, and said, promise as a loyal Knight to do what I shall direct! and turning to Gandalin, he took him in his arms and wept abundantly, and held him somewhile, for he could not speak. At length he said, my good friend Gandalin, you and I were nursed by the same milk, and our lives have been past together, and never have I endured hardship and danger in which you had not your part also. Your father took me from the sea when I was so little, being only that night's child, and they brought me up as a good father and mother bring up their beloved son; and you, my true friend, have always thought how to serve me, and I have hoped in God that he would one day enable me to requite thee; but now this misery, which is worse than death, is come upon me, and we must part, and I have nothing to leave thee, except this island: I therefore command Ysanjo and all others, by the homage which they have done to me, that so soon as they shall know my death they take thee for their Lord. The Lordship shall be thine, but I enjoin that thy father and mother enjoy it while they live, and afterwards it shall remain to thee. This I do for what they did for my childhood, for my ill fortune will not suffer me to do what they deserve, and what I desire. He then told Ysanjo to take from the rents of the island, which had accumulated, enough to build a monastery by that chapel, in honour of the Virgin Mary, and to endow it for thirty friars. But Gandalin cried out, Sir, you never yet had trouble wherein I was separated from you, nor shall it be now; and if you die, I do not wish to live: and I want no honours or lordships; give it to your brethren, I will not take it, and I do not want it. Hold thy peace, for God's sake, quoth Amadis, and say no such folly to displease me. My brethren are of such worth that they can gain lands for themselves, and to bestow on others. Then he said to Ysanjo, it grieves me, my friend Ysanjo, to leave you before I could honour you according to your deserts; but I leave you with those who will do it. Ysanjo answered, let me go with you, Sir, and suffer what you suffer. Friend, answered Amadis, it must be as I say; God only can comfort me! I will be guided by his mercy, and have no other company. He then said to Gandalin, if thou desirest knighthood, take my arms; for, since thou hast kept them so well, it is right they should be thine. I shall little need them: if not, my brother Galaor shall knight thee. Tell him this Ysanjo, and serve and love him as thou hast me, for I love him above all my lineage, because he is the best, and hath ever been humble towards me. Tell him, too, that I commit Ardian the Dwarf to his care. They for great sorrow could make him no answer. Then Amadis embraced them, and commended them to God, saying that he never thought to see them more, and he forbade them to follow him; and with that spurred his horse and rode away, forgetting to take either shield, or helmet, or spear. He struck into the mountain, going whither his horse would. Thus he kept till midnight, being utterly lost in thought; the horse came then to a little stream of water, and proceeded upward to find a place so deep that he could drink thereat. The branches struck Amadis in the face, and so recalled him to himself, and he looked round, and seeing nothing but thickets, rejoiced, thinking that he was hidden in that solitude. So he alighted, and fastened his horse to a tree, and sate upon the green herb by, and wept till his head became giddy, and he fell asleep.

Gandalin and his companions remained by the chapel, looking after Amadis as he rode so fast away: then Gandalin, who was passionately weeping, cried out, I will follow and carry his arms to him, although he hath forbidden me! And I, quoth Durin, will bear you company for this night. So they left Ysanjo, and getting to horse, rode after him, coasting here and there about the wood, till fortune brought them so near the place where he was lying, that his horse scented theirs, and began to neigh. Then they knew that he was near, and Gandalin alighted, and went quietly through the shrubs till he saw his Master sleeping by the fountain. The Squire then took his horse and led it where he had left Durin, and taking off the bridles from all the horses that they might browze the green boughs, they remained still. It was not long before Amadis awoke, for his sleep was restless: he rose, and looked round: the Moon was almost down, but it was yet some time till day; then he lay down again, and broke out into pitiful lamentations for his evil fortune.

This wounded Knight was Patin, brother to Don Sidon, who was then Emperor of Rome; he was the best Knight in all those lands; and therefore greatly feared throughout the empire. The Emperor was very old, and had no son, therefore all thought this brother should succeed him. He loved Sardamira, Queen of Sardinia, who was a fair and comely Damsel, and being niece to the Empress had been brought up in the court; and he had so far profited by his service, that she had promised him, if ever she married, to marry him. El Patin upon this grew more presumptuous, though his natural arrogance was enough; and he said to her, I have heard that King Lisuarte hath a daughter who is renowned over all the world for her beauty. I will go to his court, and say she is not so fair as you, and this I will maintain against the two best Knights who dare undertake her cause. They say there are Knights there of great worth in arms, but if I do not conquer them in one day, I will that King Lisuarte do cause my head to be cut off! The Queen answered him, do not do this; for, if that Princess be fair, it impaireth not the beauty which God hath bestowed upon me, if beauty there be; and, methinks, you might with more reason and less pride prove your prowess in some other cause, for this enterprize is not becoming a man of so high a rank, and moreover it is unreasonable and arrogant, and you cannot expect it to come to a good end. Come what will, quoth he, I will do it, to prove that you, who are the fairest Lady in the world, have the best Knight for your servant. So he took his leave, and with rich arms and ten Squires passed over into Great Britain, and went directly to where King Lisuarte was, who seeing him so accompanied thought him to be some great personage, and courteously welcomed him. When he was disarmed, all that saw his great stature judged him to be of great courage. Lisuarte then asked him who he was. He answered, King, I will tell you, for I do not come to your house to conceal myself, but to make myself known. Know, then, that I am El Patin, brother to the Emperor of Rome, and so soon as I see the Queen, and your daughter Oriana, you shall know the cause of my coming. When the King heard that he was a man of so high rank, he embraced him and said, Good friend, much are we pleased with your coming, and you shall see the Queen and her daughter and all others of my house, when it pleaseth you. Then he placed him at his own table, and they were feasted in a manner befitting the table of such a personage. El Patin looked round him, and when he saw so many Knights he was astonished, and began to hold the household of his brother, the Emperor, as nothing. Don Grumedan took him to his lodging, by the King's command, and did him much honour. The next day after mass, the King took with him El Patin and Don Grumedan, and went to the Queen, who received him honourably, and made him sit before her and near her daughter. Now Oriana's beauty was much impaired by reason of her great trouble of mind, yet when El Patin saw her he marvelled greatly, and thought that they who praised her had not mentioned half her beauty, and his heart was entirely changed from the purpose with which he had come, and wholly bent to obtain her. Wherefore calling to mind his own high birth and great qualities, and moreover that he should one day possess the empire, he thought that if he demanded her in marriage she would not be refused him. So taking the King and Queen apart, he said, I come hither to request the marriage of your daughter, for your worth and for her beauty: if I sought others of her rank, I could obtain them, seeing what I am, and what I expect to be. The King answered, we thank you much for what you say, but the Queen and I have promised our daughter not to give her in marriage against her consent: we must talk with her, before we can answer you. This the King said that he might not offend him, but in his mind he was resolved not to give her to him, or to any other who would carry her out of the land which she was to inherit. El Patin was satisfied with this, and waited five days, expecting a favourable answer; but the King and Queen, thinking it folly, had said nothing to Oriana. Then El Patin asked the King how the business went on. He answered, I do what I can, but it is necessary that you should speak to my daughter, and request her to obey my commands. El Patin went to the Princess, and said, Lady Oriana, I wish to ask a thing of you which will be much to your honour and profit. What thing is that? quoth she.--That you will do the will of your father. She knowing not for what reason he spake, replied, that shall I right willingly, being sure it will be as you say. Then Patin was full joyful, thinking he had won her, and said, I will go through this land seeking adventures; before long you will hear such things of me, as will make you with more reason grant what I require. And this also he said to the King, telling him that he would see the wonders of his land. The King replied, you have it in you to do this; yet would I dissuade you, for in this land you will find many great and perilous adventures, and many strong and hardy Knights, practised in arms. I like this, quoth El Patin: if they are strong and hardy, I am neither weak nor faint, as my deeds shall show. So he departed, right joyful at Oriana's answer, and for this joy he was singing as you have heard, when his ill fortune led him where Amadis was making moan; and this is the reason why that Knight came from so far a land.

The article is uniformly prefixed to his name, except where he is first mentioned. In our language it is only used where the name is a family or clan appellation: The Plantagenet, the Douglas, the Graham.

Durin departed from Amadis when it was clear day-light, and he passed by El Patin, who had taken off the piece of his helmet that was left, and had his face and neck all bloody. He seeing Durin, said to him, Good child, so may God make you a good man as you tell me if there be any place near where I may have remedy for my wound. Yes, quoth he, but all there are so afflicted that they will hardly attend to you.--For what cause?--For the loss of a good Knight, who hath won that lordship, and seen the likenesses and secrets of Apolidon, which none other could ever do, and he is departed in such sorrow that nothing but his death is looked for.--Methinks you speak of the Firm Island?--I do.--What! hath it found a a master? certes I am heartily sorry, for I was going there myself to prove the adventure and win the Island. Durin laughed, and answered, Truly, Sir Knight, if there be no more prowess in you than you have just now manifested, you would have gained little honour! El Patin raised himself as well as he could, and tried to catch his bridle, but Durin turned aside. Tell me, said he, what Knight is he that hath won the Firm Island?--Tell me first who you are?--I am El Patin, brother to the Emperor of Rome.--God-a-mercy! quoth Durin, your birth is better than your prowess or your courtesy. Know that the Knight you ask about is the same who hath just now left you: by what you have seen you may judge that he is worthy of what he hath won. So he went his way, and took the straight road to London, greatly desirous to tell Oriana all that he had seen of Amadis.

Ysanjo, according to his promise, revealed nothing concerning Amadis till after mass the next day. Then, when his brethren and his cousin enquired for him, he said, arm yourselves, and I will tell you his commands. And, when they were armed, Ysanjo began to weep passionately, and exclaimed, O Sirs, what a grief and a misery is come upon us, that we should lose our Lord so soon! Then he told them all that Amadis had said, and how he besought that they would not seek him, for they could not help his ill, and that they should not grieve for his death. Holy Mary! cried they, the best Knight in the world is about to perish! but we will seek him, and, if we cannot with our lives help him, we will bear him company with our deaths. Ysanjo then told Galaor his brother's request that he would make Gandalin a Knight, and take the Dwarf into his service: this he delivered weeping, and they weeping also heard it. The Dwarf for pure grief was beating his head against a wall; but Galaor caught him up and said, Ardian come with me, since thy Master has so commanded, and my lot shall be yours. The Dwarf answered, Sir, I will follow you, but not as my Master, till we know some certain tidings of Amadis. Forthwith they went to horse, and all three hastened along the road which Ysanjo pointed. All day they rode on, meeting no one of whom they could ask tidings, till they came where El Patin lay wounded beside his dead horse: his Squires had found him, and were cutting down boughs and poles to make him a litter, for he was exceeding faint with loss of blood, so that he could not answer them, but made sign that they should speak to his Squires, and they replied, that their Lord had sped so ill in an encounter with the Knight who had won the Firm Island. Good Squires, know you which way he went?--No; but before we came up to this place we met an armed Knight in the forest, upon a stout horse, and he was weeping and accusing his fortune: a Squire behind him carried his arms; the shield had two lions azure in a field or., and the Squire was lamenting also. That is he! cried they; and they pushed on with great speed till they came out of the forest upon a great plain, where there were many roads in every direction, so that they knew not which way to take; therefore they agreed to separate, and meet at the court of Lisuarte upon St. John's day, that if by then they had been unsuccessful in their search, they might consult anew how to find him. There then they embraced and separated, each earnestly bent on his quest, but in vain; for, when Amadis reached the open country, he took none of those roads, but struck aside along a glen, and thence made into the mountain.

He rode on lost in thought, suffering his horse to chuse the path. About noon the horse came to some trees that grew beside a mountain-stream, and then stopt, being weary with the heat and with the toil of last night. Here Amadis recollected himself and looked round, and was pleased to see no signs of a habitation: he alighted and drank of the brook. Gandalin came up, and turning the horses to feed came to his Master, whom he found more dead than alive; and, not daring to disturb him, he lay down before him. Amadis continued in this mood till sunset, then rising, he struck his foot against Gandalin: art thou sleeping? quoth he. No, replied Gandalin, but I am thinking upon two things which concern you, the which, if it please you to hear, I will speak: if not, I will be silent. Amadis answered, go saddle the horses, and let us begone: I do not chuse to be found by those who seek me. Sir, said Gandalin, you are in a solitary place, and your horse is so weary that, unless you allow him some rest, he cannot carry you. Amadis replied, weeping, do what you think best: whether I stay or go, there is no rest for me! Then Gandalin looked after the horses, and returned to his Master, and begged him to eat of a pasty which he had brought, but he would not. Sir, said he, shall I say the two things whereon I have been thinking? Say what you will, quoth Amadis; I care nothing now for any thing that may be said or done, and wish to live no longer than till I can confess.--Then I pray you hear me, Sir: I have thought much upon that letter which Oriana sent you, and upon the words of the Knight with whom you fought; and seeing how light is the faith of many women, it may be that she hath changed her affections, and so has feigned anger against you, before you discover it. The other thing is, that I believe her to be so good and loyal that she could not have been thus moved, unless some great falsehood had been spoken of you, which she believes and feels in her heart; and, since you know that you have never been false, you should make the truth known, whereby she will repent of what she hath done, and intreat your forgiveness for the wrong, and you will enjoy your former happiness. It is better to take food with this hope, than, by abandoning yourself to despair, to die and lose her, and the glory of this world, and even the other. Hold thy peace, for God's sake! quoth Amadis, for such foolishness and lies as thou hast uttered, are enough to provoke the whole world. Oriana, my Lady, has never done wrong; and, if I perish, it is but reasonable, not for my deserving, but to accomplish her will and command: if I did not know that thou hast said this to comfort me, I would cut off thy head! you have greatly displeased me: never say the like to me again! He then turned away in anger, and walked along the side of the stream.

But Gandalin, who for two days and a night had not slept, was overcome with heaviness, and at length fell asleep. When Amadis saw this, he saddled his horse, and hid Gandalin's saddle and bridle among the bushes, that he might not be able to find them; and, taking his arms, he struck into the wildest part of the mountain. All night he went; and the next day till vespers, then he came to a plain at the foot of a mountain: there were two high trees there that grew over a fountain, and there he went to give his horse drink, for they had found no water all that day. When he came up to the fountain, he saw an old man in a religious habit, who was giving his ass water; his beard and hair were grey, and his habit was very poor, being made of goat's hair. Amadis saluted him, and asked him if he was a Priest. The good man answered, he had been one forty years. God be praised! quoth Amadis: I beseech you for the love of God stay here to-night, and hear my confession, of which I am in great need. In God's name! said the old man. Then Amadis alighted, laid his arms upon the ground, and took the saddle from his horse and let him feed; and he disarmed, and knelt before the good man, and began to kiss his feet. The good man took him by the hand and raised him, and made him sit by him, and, beholding him well, he thought him the goodliest Knight that ever he saw, but he was pale, and his face and neck were stained with tears, so that the old man had great pity, and said, Sir Knight, it seems that you are in great affliction: if it be for any sin that you have committed, and these tears spring from repentance, in a happy hour came you here! but if it be for any worldly concerns, from which by your youth and comeliness it seems you cannot be removed, remember God, and beseech him of his mercy to bring you to his service. He then raised his hand and blessed him, and bade him relate all the sins he could call to mind. Hereon Amadis began the whole discourse of his life, without letting any thing pass. The good man then said, seeing that you are of such understanding, and of so high a lineage, you ought not to despair and cast yourself away for any thing that may befall you, much less for the action of a woman, for they are as easily won as lightly lost. I counsel you to lay aside such folly, for the love of God, to whom it is displeasing, and even for worldly reason, for man ought not to love where he is not beloved. Good Sir, replied Amadis, I am now in such extremity that I cannot live any long time: I beseech you, by that God whose faith you hold, take me with you for the little while I have to live, that I may have comfort for my soul. My horse and arms I need no longer: I will leave them here, and go with you on foot, and perform whatever penitence you enjoin. If you refuse, you will sin before God, for else I shall wander and perish in this mountain. When the good man saw him thus resolute, he said to him, with a heart wholly bent to his good, Certes, Sir, it becomes not a Knight like you to abandon himself as if he had lost the whole world, by reason of a woman: their love is no longer than while they see you with their eyes, and hear such words as you say to them, and that past, presently they forget you; especially in those false loves that are begun against the Lord: the same sin which makes them sweet at first, gives them a bitterness in the end, as you experience. But you who are of such prowess, and have such power, you who are the true and loyal protector of such as are oppressed, great wrong would it be to the world if you thus forsake it. I know not what she is who hath brought you to this extremity, but if all the worth and beauty of the sex were brought together in one, I know that such a man as you ought not to be lost for her. Good Sir, quoth Amadis, I ask not your counsel upon this, where it is not wanted; but, for my soul's sake, I pray you take me in your company, for else I shall have no remedy, but to die in this mountain. The old man hearing this, had such compassion on him that the tears fell down his long white beard. Sir, my son, said he, I live in a dreary place, and a hard life; my hermitage is full seven leagues out at sea, upon a high rock, to which no ship can come except in summer time. I have lived there these thirty years, and he who lives there must renounce all the pleasures and delights of the world, and all my support is the alms which the people of the land here bestow upon me. I promise you, said Amadis, this is the life I desire for the little while I shall live, and I beseech you, for the love of God, let me go with you. The good man, albeit against his will, consented; and Amadis said, now, Father, command me what to do, and I will be obedient. The good man gave him his blessing, and said vespers, and then taking bread and fish from his wallet, he bade Amadis eat; but Amadis refused, though he had been three days without tasting food. You are to obey me, said the good man, and I command you to eat, else your soul will be in great danger if you die. Then he took a little food; and when it was time to sleep, the old man spread his cloak and laid him down thereon, and Amadis laid himself down at his feet.

The most part of the night Amadis did nothing but turn from side to side, but at last being sore wearied he fell asleep, and in that sleep he dreamt that he was fastened in a dark chamber, where there was no light at all, neither could he find any way to come out thereof, whereat he greatly lamented; then he thought that his cousin Mabilia and the Damsel of Denmark came to him, and there was a sun-beam before them which dispelled the darkness, and they took him by the hand, saying, Come forth, Sir, to this great palace. And he thought that he was right joyful; and going out he saw his Lady Oriana surrounded with a great flame of fire, whereat he cried out, Holy Mary, help her! and ran through the fire to save her, feeling no hurt, and took her in her arms and carried her into a garden, the greenest and pleasantest that ever he had seen. At the loud cry which he made the good man awoke, and took him by the hand, asking him what he ailed? Sir, said he, I felt such pain in my sleep that I was almost dead. So it seemed by your cry, said the old man, but it is time to set out; then he got upon his ass. Amadis would have walked by him, but the good man with great entreaty made him mount his horse, and so they fared on together.

As they went, Amadis besought him to grant one boon, which should be no-ways hurtful, the which the old man granted. I pray you then, said Amadis, that so long as we are together you will not tell any man who I am, nor any thing concerning me, and that you will call me by some other name, not my own; and, when I am dead, you tell my brethren of me, that they may take my body into their country. Your life and death, said the good man, are in the hands of God, so talk no more of this, he will help you if you know and love and serve him as you ought; but tell me, by what name will you be called?--Even by whatever it shall please you.--So the old man, seeing how fair he was, and in how forlorn a condition, replied, I will give you a name conformable to your appearance and distress, you shall be called Beltenebros. Now Beltenebros being interpreted, signifyeth, the Fair Forlorn. The name pleased Amadis, and he admired the good sense of the old man in chusing it; so by this name he was long known, till it became as renowned as that of Amadis. Thus communing they reached the sea-side just as the night closed in; there they found a bark, wherein the good man might cross to his hermitage. Beltenebros gave his horse to the mariners, and they gave him in exchange a cloak of goat skin, and a garment of coarse grey woollen. They embarked, and Beltenebros asked the good man what was his own name, and the name of his abode. They call my dwelling-place, said he, the Poor Rock, because none can live there without enduring great poverty: my own name is Andalod. I was a clerk of some learning, and spent my youth in many vanities, till it pleased God to awaken me, and then I withdrew to this solitary abode: for thirty years I have never left it, till now that I went to the burial of my sister. At length they reached the Rock and landed, and the mariners returned to the main land. Thus Amadis, now called Beltenebros, remained on the Poor Rock, partaking the austerities of the hermit, not for devotion, but for despair, forgetful of his great renown in arms, and hoping and expecting death,--all for the anger of a woman!

On the tenth day after he had left Amadis in the forest, Durin reached London, and, alighting at his own lodging, went straight to the Queen's palace. So soon as Oriana saw him, her heart throbbed violently, so that she could not calm it, and she went into her chamber and lay down upon the bed, bidding the Damsel of Denmark go for her brother, and bring him to her secretly. The Damsel returned with Durin, and leaving him with her mistress, went out to Mabilia. Now, friend, said Oriana, tell me where you have been, and where you found Amadis, and what he did when he read my letter, and if you have seen Queen Briolania: tell me every thing. Then Durin related how he had followed Amadis from Sobradisa to the Firm Island, and arrived there just as Amadis was passing under the Arch of True Lovers, under the which none might pass that had been false to his first love. How, cried she, dared he prove that adventure, knowing that he could not accomplish it? It did not turn out so, replied the Squire; he accomplished it with more loyalty than any other had ever there displayed, and was received with more honour, and such signs as had never been seen before. When Oriana heard this, her joy was very great, that that which had occasioned her great anger was thus disproved. He proceeded with his tale, how Amadis had won the Forbidden Chamber. Hold! quoth she, and she lifted up her hands and began to pray God that she might one day be in that Chamber with him who had worthily won it. Now, quoth she, tell me what did Amadis when you gave him the letter? The tears came into Durin's eyes. Lady, I advise you not to ask, for you have done the worst cruelty and devilry that ever Damsel committed. Holy Mary! cried Oriana, what art thou saying? I say, repeated Durin, that you have unjustly destroyed the best and truest Knight that ever woman had, or will have to the end of the world. Cursed be the hour in which such a thing was devised, and cursed be death that did not take me before I carried such a message: if I had known what I carried, I would rather have slain myself than have appeared before him, for you in sending that letter, and I in taking it, have been the cause of his death. Then he related every thing that had passed, and all that Amadis had said, and how he was gone into the mountain to die. While he was relating these things, all Oriana's anger was gone, and her shame and anguish became so intolerable, that when he had ceased she could not utter a word, but remained like one who had lost her senses. Durin, albeit that he thought she well deserved this suffering, was yet moved to pity, and he went to Mabilia and his sister, and said to them, go and help Oriana, for, if she hath done wrong, her punishment is come upon her: and he went his way.

Then began so fierce a battle, that Ladasin and the Squires thought even the conqueror could not escape with life; but they were both hardy Knights, and their armour of excellent temper, and they knew how to defend themselves. Now when their fight was at the hottest, they heard the winding of a horn from the top of the tower. Gandalod knew not what it could mean, and Guilan thought it was a signal for succour to his enemy; therefore they both more eagerly bestirred themselves to end the battle. Gandalod grappled with him, and they both fell; then was the fight closer and more dangerous, but Guilan had the advantage; it was evident that his antagonist waxed weary and weak, and at length, by a well driven blow, Don Guilan lopt off his right arm. He shrieked out, and turned to fly to his tower, but Guilan reached him, plucked the helmet from his head, and bade him chuse instant death, or to present himself with his presents, but in another guise, to King Lisuarte. I will rather trust his mercy, quoth Gandalod, than be slain here outright.

Don Guilan then took horse, and rode with Ladasin towards the tower, where there was a great uproar. The Knights had broken from their prison and seized arms, and one of them it was who wound the horn, and now they had won the castle; the gate was opened, and the servants and one Knight came flying out: they called out to Ladasin and Guilan to kill those villains, and particularly the Knight: three of the men escaped them, but the Knight they took. Then said Guilan to them, Sirs, I cannot tarry, but my cousin Ladasin shall keep you company; let the castle be kept for me, and do you carry this Knight and Gandalod to King Lisuarte for his judgment. Then he gave his own shield, which was much battered, to his Squire, and took that of Amadis, and as he hung it round his neck the tears came. They knew the shield, and hearing how Don Guilan had found it, were sorely troubled, thinking that some great mishap had befallen Amadis. So he proceeded to the court, and all that saw the shield crowded round him; and the King said, for God's sake, Don Guilan, tell us what you know of Amadis. I know nothing of him, Sir, quoth he, but how I found the shield I will declare before the Queen. So he was taken to the Queen, and he knelt before her weeping, and told her how he had found the arms of Amadis, and sought for him three days in vain. Knowing, said he, the value of that good Knight, and that it was his desire to employ it till death in your service, I have brought you these arms, in testimony of the duty which I do owe both to you and to him. Let them be placed where all may see them; there may be some among the many strangers who come here, who may know some tidings of their master, and they will be memorials to all who follow arms, that they may take example by his great chivalry. Greatly was the Queen distressed at this, and Lisuarte also, and all the court; but Oriana could not remain there, and she went to her bed, and bitterly reproaching her own folly, wished for death. Albeit Mabilia did somewhat cheer her with a hope that the Damsel of Denmark might find him and repair all.

The Knight and Damsels whom Don Guilan had released, soon arrived, and the two Damsels who had seen Gandalin, and they related what lamentation a Squire had made over the arms. Presently after came Ladasin, and the Knights who led Gandalod prisoner; and when Lisuarte heard what cruelties he had purposed, he said to him, here I slew thy father for the great treason which he committed against me, and here thou shalt die for that which thou didst purpose to commit. So he commanded him, and the Knight his follower, to be thrown from the Tower, before which Barsinan had been burnt.

Beltenebros and the Hermit were one day sitting on the stone-bench by the door of their chapel, when the old man said, I pray you, son, tell me what it was that made you cry out so in your sleep, when we were by the fountain of the plain? That shall I willingly, father, he replied, and I beseech you tell me what you understand by it. Then he related to him the manner of his dream, only the names of the women, those he did not tell. The good man mused for a while, and then said, with a cheerful countenance, Beltenebros, you have given me great pleasure by this account, and you also have great reason to rejoice. The dark chamber, in the which you thought yourself to be, and from whence you could not get out, signifieth this great tribulation which you now endure. The Damsels who opened the door, are those friends who continually solicit your cause with her whom you love so much, and they will succeed so well as to withdraw you from this place. The sun-beam which went before them, is the joyful news that they are to send you here; and the fire, wherein you saw your Lady enveloped, is the great pain of love which she suffers for you as well as you for her: from that fire you delivered her, that is, from the pain which your presence will remove; and the pleasant garden is a sign of great happiness, wherewith you shall pass your lives. Truly, I know a man of my habit should not discourse of such things as these, yet it is more for God's service to speak the truth that may comfort you, than to conceal it, seeing your desperate state.

Beltenebros knelt down and kissed the old man's hands, thanking God for having given him such a friend in his need, and praying with tears that he would mercifully be pleased to accomplish the words of that holy man his servant. Then he besought him to tell the interpretation of the dream he had dreamt before Durin gave him the letter, which when the Hermit had heard, he answered, This I can show you clearly, for it is all accomplished. The place overshadowed with trees, was the Firm Island, and the people who made such great joy about you, signified the great pleasure of the Islanders in gaining you for their Lord. The man who came to you with the box of bitter electuary, was the messenger of your Lady, for the bitterness of her words, you, who have proved them, can best tell; and you laid aside your arms. The stony place amidst the water, is this Poor Rock; and the religious man who spoke to you in an unknown tongue, am I, who tell you the holy word of God, which before you neither knew nor thought of.

Verily, said Beltenebros, you tell me the truth of this dream, for these things have all come to pass, and therefore great cause have I to hope for the future. Yet was not this hope so great or so certain as to remove his sorrow, for he would often sit with his eyes fixed upon the ground, remembering what he had been, and his life would have been endangered by exceeding melancholy, had it not been for the counsel of that good man. And sometimes, to take him away from that pensiveness, the Hermit would make him go with two nephews that kept him company there, to angle in a little stream hard by, where they caught plenty of fish.

Here Beltenebros dwelt in penitence and great grief, and he past the night most frequently under some large trees in the garden near the chapel, that he might there lament, without the knowledge of the Hermit or the boys; and calling to mind the great wrong he endured, he made this song in his passion:

This is the version in the English translation from the French: the matter is preserved, the manner lost. The poem is curious from its age; it is printed with these marks:

Pues seme niega victoria dojusto mera deuida alli do muere la gloria es gloria morir la vida.

Y con esta muerte mia moriran todas mis da?os, mi esperanza y mi porfia el amor y sus enga?os; mas quedara en mi memoria lastima nunca perdida, que por me matar la gloria, me mataron gloria y vida.

After they had sung to her awhile, they told her what Beltenebros had said of Florestan. Ah, call him here, cried she, he must be some good man, since he knows Don Florestan. They brought him to her. These Damsels, said she, tell me that you have seen and that you love Don Florestan: by the faith you owe to God, tell me all you know concerning him. Beltenebros then related how he had gone with his brethren and Agrayes to the Firm Island, and that he had not seen him since. Tell me, said Corisanda, are you akin to him, for you seem to love him much?--Lady, I love him for his great valour, and because his father knighted me, wherefore I am greatly bound to him and his sons; but I am very sad for the tidings which I heard of Amadis before my coming here.--What are they?--I met a Damsel in a forest by the way side, singing a sweet song, and I asked her who had made it. She answered, a Knight, to whom God give more comfort than he had when that was made, for by the words it seemed he had suffered great wrong in love, and complained heavily. I stayed two days with the Damsel till I had learnt it. She told me that Amadis did show it her, and that he wept at the time and was in great misery. I beseech you, quoth Corisanda, teach it to my Damsels, that they may sing and play it to me. That will I, said he, for your own sake, and for his sake whom you love; albeit that is no time for singing, nor for aught that is matter of joy. He then went with the Damsels to the chapel, and showed them the song which he had made: his voice was of rare sweetness, and now his melancholy made it more soft and in unison; and the Damsels learnt the song, and did sing it to their Lady, who took great pleasure to hear them. Corisanda remained there four days; on the fifth she took leave of the Hermit, and asked Beltenebros if he should remain there long? Lady, till I die, he replied. Then she entered her ship, and made voyage to London.

Lisuarte and the Queen received her in a manner suitable to her high rank, and lodged her in the palace, and the Queen asked her if she had any suit to Lisuarte, that, if so, she might further it. My Lady, said Corisanda, I thank you for the favour; but my coming is to seek Don Florestan, and because tidings from all parts reach this court, I will remain here some time till I hear news of him. Good friend, replied Brisena, that may you do so long as you think good; at present we have no other news of him, than that he is gone in search of his brother Amadis, who is lost, we know not for what cause; and she then related how Guilan had found the arms. Hearing this, she began to weep, and say, O Lord God, what will become of my Lord and friend Don Florestan! for he so loves that brother, that, if he finds him not, he also will become desperate, and I shall never see him more! The Queen having great pity, consoled her, and Oriana, who was by, hearing the love she bore to the brother of Amadis, had the greater desire to honour her, and accompanied her to her chamber, and learnt from her all her love. Thus talking with her and Mabilia of sundry things, Corisanda related how she had been upon the Poor Rock, and found a Knight there doing hard penance, who had taught her Damsels a song made by Amadis in his affliction, and the words, she said, were very sad. My good friend and Lady, quoth Mabilia, beseech you let your Damsels sing it! I desire much to hear it, seeing it was made by that Knight, my cousin. The Damsels then sung the song, which it was a pleasure to hear, and yet so sorrowful that it made those sad who heard it. But Oriana, who understood the complaint, could no longer abide there for the shame of the tears that she felt flowing, and she went to her chamber. Mabilia therefore said to Corisanda, I see Oriana is unwell; she hath for courtesy remained here longer than she should: I must go and assist her; but tell me what manner of man was he whom you saw upon the Poor Rock of the Hermitage, and what did he know concerning Amadis? She then told her how they had found him, that she had never seen a man so comely in grief and being wasted, nor one of such manners in poverty, nor a man so young of such discourse and reason. Mabilia forthwith went joyfully to her friend's chamber. He who asks news, said she, sometimes learns more than he expects: the melancholy man who lives upon the Poor Rock, and calls himself Beltenebros, by all that I can learn from Corisanda, must be Amadis. Oriana lifted up her hands, O Lord of the World, grant that it be true! Dear friend, tell me what to do, for I have neither sense nor judgment: unfortunate wretch, who by my own folly and intemperate passion have lost all my happiness! Mabilia turned away her face, that the tears might not be seen: we must wait for the Damsel's return, said she; if she should not find him, leave it to me: I am sure he is this Beltenebros.

Ten days that Damsel of Denmark remained in Scotland, not so much for pleasure, as because she had suffered much from the sea, and for the ill success of her search, and she feared that to return, when she had sped so ill, would be the death of her mistress. At length she took her leave, and receiving presents from the Queen of Scotland to Queen Brisena and Oriana and Mabilia, she embarked for Great Britain, not knowing what other course to pursue; but that Lord of the World, who to those that are utterly without hope or remedy shows something of his power, that we may know it is he that helpeth us and not our own wisdom, he changed her voyage, to her own great fear, and the fear and sorrow of all in the ship; for the sea began to rage, and such a tempest arose, that the sailors lost all power over the ship, and all knowledge of their course, and the ship was driven whither the winds would, they that were in her having no hope of life. At last one morning they came to the foot of the Poor Rock; some of them knew the place, and said that Andalod the Hermit lived there, which, when the Damsel heard, she ordered them to put to land, that being rescued from such a danger, she might hear mass from that holy man, and return thanks to the Virgin Mary for the mercy which her glorious Son had shown them.

Beltenebros was sitting at this time by the fountain under the trees, where he had passed the night, and he was now so reduced that he did not expect to live fifteen days. What with weeping, and with the wasting away of sorrow, his face was more deadly pale than sickness could have made it, and so worn down and wan that no one could have known him. He saw the ship, and the Damsels and two Squires landing; but his thoughts being wholly bent upon death, the things that once gave him pleasure, as in seeing strangers that he might help them if they needed succour, now had become hateful. So he rose and went into the chapel, and told the Hermit that there were strangers landed and coming up; and then he knelt before the altar, and prayed God to have mercy upon his soul, for he was soon going to his account. The Hermit vested himself to say mass, and the Damsel with Durin and Enil entered. After she had prayed, she uncovered her face. Beltenebros rose from his knees, and seeing her and Durin, the shock was so great that he fell down senseless. The Hermit thought him dead, and exclaimed, Ah, Lord Almighty, why has it not pleased thee to have pity upon him who might have done so much in thy service! and the tears fell fast adown his long white beard. Good Damsel, said he, let these men help me to carry him to his chamber, I believe it is the last kindness we can do him. Enil and Durin assisted to lift him up, and they carried him into his chamber, and laid him upon a poor bed, and neither of them knew him.

After the Damsel had heard mass, she resolved to make her meal ashore, for she was weary of the sea. So by chance she asked who that poor man was, and what sore sickness afflicted him.--He is a Knight, who liveth here in penance. He is greatly to be blamed, quoth she, to chuse so desert a place. It is as you say, replied the Hermit, for he has done so for the foolish vanities of the world, more than for the service of God. I will see him, said the Damsel, since you tell me he is a Knight, perhaps there may be something in the ship which would relieve him.--That you may do, but he is so near his end, that I believe Death will ease you of that trouble. Beltenebros was lying upon his bed, thinking what he should do: if he made himself known, that would be breaking his Lady's command, and, if he did not, he should remain without any hope or possible remedy; but he thought to disobey her will would be worse than death, and so determined to be silent. The Damsel came to the bedside, and said, Good man, I learn from the Hermit that you are a Knight, and because Damsels are beholden to all Knights for the dangers they encounter in our defence, I resolved to see you, and leave with you any thing which is in the ship that may contribute to your health. He made her no answer, but sobbed with such exceeding passion, that she thought his soul was departing; and because the room was dark, she opened a shutter for the light, and drew near to see if he were dead. They looked at each other some time, and the Damsel knew him not. At last, she saw a scar in his face: it was the mark of a wound which Arcalaus had given him with his lance, when Oriana was rescued; then, tho' before she had no suspicion, she knew that this was Amadis.--Ah, Holy Mary, help me! you are he, Sir! and she fell with her face upon the bed, and knelt down, and kist his hands. Now, Sir, said she, your compassion and pardon are needed for her who has wronged you, for, if her unjust suspicion have reduced you to this danger, she herself with more reason passes a life more bitter than death. Beltenebros took her in his arms, and held her awhile, having no power to speak. She then gave him the letter: your Lady sends you this, and she bids you, if you are the same Amadis, whom she loves so well, to forget the past, and come to her in the castle of Miraflores, and there receive her atonement for your wrongs, which excessive love occasioned. Amadis kissed the letter, and placed it upon his heart, saying, Heart, take thy remedy, for there was none other that could save thee! This was the letter:

If great faults committed by enmity, when humbly acknowledged, deserve pardon, what shall we say to those which proceeded from excess of love? Not that by this do I deny, my true friend, that I deserve exceeding punishment, for neither having considered your truth, that had never before failed, nor my own mind in how passionate a state it was. I pray you receive this Damsel as coming from one who humbly confesseth her fault, and who will tell you the wretchedness which she endures who requests your pity, not because she deserves it, but for your comfort, as well as her own.

Such joy had Beltenebros at this letter, that he was lost even as in his past sorrow, and tears that he did not feel ran down his cheeks. It was agreed between them, that the Damsel should give out how she took him aboard for his health sake, because on that Rock he could have no help, and that as soon as possible they should take land, and leave the ship. Beltenebros then told the Hermit by what happy chance the Damsel had found him, and besought him that he would take charge of the Monastery that was to be built by his command at the foot of the rock of the Firm Island. This the old man promised, and Beltenebros then embarked, being known of none but the Damsel.

They soon landed with the two Squires, and left the mariners. Presently they found a pleasant place upon the side of a brook, with many goodly trees, and there they resolved to rest, because Beltenebros was so weak; and there, if it had not been that the absence of his Lady afflicted him, he would have passed the pleasantest life, and best for his recovery that might be, for under those trees where the brook-springs arose, they had their meals, and there was their tent for the night. There related they to each other all that had past, and a pleasure was it now to him to talk over his misery. Ten days they remained, and in that time he so regained strength, that his heart felt its old inclination for arms. He made himself known to Durin there, and took Enil for his Squire, who knew not whom it was that he served, but was well content with him for his gentle speech. Hence departing, in four days they reached a nunnery; there they determined that he and Enil should abide, while the Damsel and her brother went to Miraflores. She then gave Beltenebros money to buy horses and armour, and for his wants; and she left behind her part of the Queen of Scotland's presents, that she might send Durin for them as if they had been forgotten, and so he might bring news.

After their year's vain search, Agrayes, Galaor, and Florestan, met at the place appointed, which was a chapel half a league from London. Gandalin came with Florestan, and, when he found no tidings of his Master, he said to them, that they should leave their lamentation and begin their search again, remembering what Amadis would have done for them if they had been in like case. So they determined to enter the court, and, if they learnt nothing there, to set out again upon their quest; and they wept to think how happily they had accomplished all adventures that had befallen them, and yet had failed to find him whom they sought.

Then having heard mass at the chapel, they rode towards the city. It was St. John's day, and presently they met King Lisuarte riding out with all his Knights in honour of that holy day, because the Saint was so great a Saint, and also because on that day he had been made King. When he saw three Errant Knights approaching, he drew nigh to welcome them. Great joy was there when they unhelmed, and at first Lisuarte thought Florestan was Amadis, for he much resembled him; but Gandalin and the Dwarf, when they beheld this meeting, wept with great grief. The news soon spread: greatly was Corisanda rejoiced thereat, and Olinda, the gentle friend of Agrayes, who knew how he had past under the Arch of True Lovers. Mabilia, in joy for her brother's coming, went for Oriana, who was sitting sorrowfully at her chamber-window, reading. She answered, weeping and sighing as if her heart-strings would have broken, how can I go? do you not see my face and eyes, how they show that I have been weeping? and how can I see those Knights, in whose company I was wont to see Amadis: it is better to die! Mabilia comforted her how she could:--the Damsel might yet bring tidings. Nay, quoth Oriana, if these Knights have failed, who have sought him so far and so long, how shall she succeed? a woman! and seeking him but in one place? But she may induce him to discover himself, said Mabilia, for she carries comfort to him, and knows the secret of his love, which they did not. So she cheared her, and made her wash her eyes, and called Olinda to go with them to the Queen. Look, quoth the King to Galaor, how ill your friend Oriana is! I grieve to see her thus, replied he: reason is it that we should try to help her health by our services. My good friend, Galaor, said she, God it is who heals sickness and sorrow, and if it pleaseth him he will me, and recover your brother Amadis, whom you have lost, and whom we all lament. Anon an outcry was heard without, for Gandalin and the Dwarf seeing their Master's shield where it was hung, began to lament aloud, and the Knights were comforting them. What! cried Lisuarte, is Gandalin here? Florestan answered, I met him two months ago seeking for his Master, and made him bear me company. I hold Gandalin, said the King, to be one of the best Squires in the world, and we ought to comfort him. So he rose, and went out to him. When Oriana heard the name of Gandalin, and the lamentation that he was making, she grew pale, and would have fallen, but Galaor and Florestan caught her. Mabilia, who knew the cause, ran to her, and put her arms round her neck. Good and true friends, then said Oriana to the two brethren, if I do not show you what honour I ought and desire to show, I pray you impute it to its true cause, this sore illness! and then she went to her chamber. Dear friend, said she to Mabilia, since we entered this city of London, I have never been without some cause of sorrow: let us go to Miraflores, that is a delightful place, and there I can have the comfort of solitude. We will ask your parents' permission, said Mabilia, and there the Damsel of Denmark will find us, and there you may the more freely see him, when he shall be found. Ah, quoth Oriana, let us lose no time!

This castle of Miraflores was about two leagues from London, a little place, but the pleasantest abode in all that land, for it was in a wood by the side of a mountain, surrounded with orchards and gardens that abounded with fruits and flowers, and there were fountains in the courts canopied with trees, that all the year round bore flower and fruit. The King one day had taken the Queen and Princess there when he was hunting, and because the Princess was much pleased with the place, he gave it her for her own. About a bow-shot from the gate was a nunnery, which she had founded, and there were nuns in it of holy life. So that night she asked permission of Lisuarte and her Mother to retire there, which was readily granted.

The King being at table with Agrayes and his cousins, said to them, I trust we shall have good news of Amadis, for I have sent thirty Knights of the best of my household to seek him, and, if they fail, take you as many as you will and seek him; but I beseech you do not depart till after a battle which has been appointed between me and King Cildadan of Ireland, who is a King renowned in arms, and has married the daughter of King Abies, whom Amadis slew. The battle is to be an hundred against an hundred, and the quarrel this: That kingdom has been obliged to pay tribute to the Kings of Great Britain: Cildadan demands battle on condition, that, if he be conquered, the tribute shall be doubled; but, if he succeed, the country shall be freed therefrom. I trow he will need all his Knights and friends! The three companions, albeit loth to have their search delayed, yet could they not refuse to stay and share the peril. After the cloths were removed, Florestan bade Gandalin go to Mabilia, who wished to see him. He went accordingly, and, when they saw each other, they both wept. Ah, Lady, quoth he, what great wrong hath Oriana done to you and to your lineage, in depriving you of the best Knight in the world! and what wrong hath she done to him, who never erred against her in deed nor word! Ill hath God bestowed such beauty and such goodness, when this could be in her! and yet none hath lost so much by it as herself! Say not thus, Gandalin! cried Mabilia, what she did was from exceeding love, and in the belief that he was loving another. And then she related all that had been said by Ardian concerning the broken sword. O God! quoth Gandalin, where were all your understandings? he would have buried himself alive for her displeasure! and she believed this! and thus is the best Knight in the world destroyed! Oriana had listened to all this: she came forward as if she had heard nothing; and weeping, so that hardly could she speak, she said, O Gandalin! God preserve and bless you, as you shall do what you ought! Lady, said he, in tears also, what do you command me? Kill me! cried she, for I killed your master, and you should revenge his death, as he would have revenged your's! And then she fell senseless.

The King bade Grumedan accompany his daughter to Miraflores, and see that there were serving-men left there, and porters for the gate, and all things needful. Early the next morning they set out, and when Oriana saw the place, how fresh it was with flowers and roses, and the water-pipes and fountains, her mind felt greatly comforted. The keys of the castle and of the garden-gates were every night to be carried by the porters to the Abbess Adalasta, that she might keep them securely. I have desired to have the keys by day, said Oriana to Mabilia, that Gandalin may get another set made, so that if by good fortune Amadis should come, we may admit him by the postern-door thro' the garden; and there Oriana determined to remain till she saw Amadis, or till she died in that solitude. Her apartments were full pleasant, and before the chamber-door there was a little court wherein three trees grew, that quite shadowed it; and there they took their pleasure, but with great anxiety expected the Damsel of Denmark and her tidings. The next day the Porter came and said, a Squire asked for Mabilia. Let him in, quoth Oriana; it is Gandalin, a right good Squire, who was brought up with us, and is the milk-brother of Amadis, whom God preserve from harm! God preserve him, indeed! cried the Porter, for great loss to the world would it be if such a Knight were to perish. Lo now! said Oriana to her friend, as the Porter went away, how Amadis is loved by all, even by these simple men! and I who was so loved by him, I have been his death! Herewithal Gandalin entered, and Oriana making him sit by her side, related how she had sent the Damsel of Denmark to seek Amadis, and what she had written to him: think you, Gandalin, said she, that he will forgive me? You little know his heart, Lady, quoth the Squire; by God for the least word in the letter he will come: if you bade him, he would bury himself alive under the earth,--how much sooner will he come at your command! And the Damsel of Denmark will sooner find him than all the persons in the world; for, if he hid himself from me, he will not show himself to any other. And you, Lady, should take comfort with this hope, lest he should find your beauty so altered when he comes, and fly from you. What, Gandalin! seem I so ugly? quoth she, being well-pleased at his words. You seem so to yourself, said he, that you thus hide yourself where none may see you. I do it to this end, said Oriana, that, when thy master cometh, if he would fly, he may not be able. She then showed him the keys, and bade him get others made like them, that when his master came they might admit him at their pleasure.

Gandalin took the keys to London, and returned that same night with others so exactly like them, that there was no difference, except that these were new and the others old. Here they are! cried Mabilia, showing them to Oriana: come, we have supt, and all the people are at rest! let us try them. They took hand, and went in the dark to the posterns that opened from the castle into the garden. When they were near the first, Oriana cried, I cannot go on, I am dying with fear! Fear nothing! quoth Mabilia, laughing as she spake, when I am here to protect you, for I am cousin to the best Knight in the world, and am going on his service. Oriana could not but smile. I will take courage, and trust in your prowess in arms. Come on boldly, quoth Mabilia, and see how I finish the adventure! if I fail, I swear for one whole year never to hang shield from my neck, nor gird on a sword. In this merry mood she opened the first postern, and presently the other with as little difficulty, and then they were in the garden. How will he get over the wall? cried Oriana. At yonder corner, replied Mabilia, there must be a piece of wood laid on the other side, and we will give him our hands here. You must perform this labour, for it is you who will be paid for it. Oriana at this took hold of her cousin's coif and threw it on the ground, and they stood laughing for some time, then returned and fastened the gates, and went to rest. As Oriana lay down, Mabilia cried, I wish that poor wretch were here who is now despairing! eat, cousin! and sleep, that you may recover your beauty, as Gandalin advised!

King Lisuarte was at table; the cloths were removed, and Galaor, Florestan, and Agrayes, were about to take their leave and conduct Corisanda to her island, when there came a strange Knight into the palace, all armed except his head and hands, and with him two Squires, and he carried in his hand a letter sealed with five seals, which on his knees he presented to the King, saying, let this be read, and then I will say for what I am come. Lisuarte saw that it was a letter of credence, and bade him speak his errand. Then said the Knight, King, I defy thee on the part of Famongomadan, the Giant of the Boiling Lake; Cartadaque, his nephew, Giant of the Defended Mountain; and Madanfabul, his marriage-brother, the Giant of the Vermillion Tower; and for Quadragante, brother of King Abies, and Arcalaus the Enchanter: they tell thee that thy death, and the death of all who call themselves thine is in their hands, for they are coming against thee on King Cildadan's side. Howbeit, if thou wilt give thy daughter Oriana to Madasima, the fair daughter of Famongomadan, to be her damsel and servant, they will not injure thee, nor be thine enemies, but will give her in marriage when it is time to Basagante, Madasima's brother, who doth well deserve to be Lord of her and thy land. Therefore, King, look to thy choice! such peace, or such war! Lisuarte smiled when he began to reply, as one who set at nought the defiance. Knight, said he, better is a dangerous war, than a dishonourable peace: a bad account should I render to Him, who hath placed me in this high rank, if for lack of heart I should so shamefully debase it! Tell them I would rather chuse war with them all the days of my life, and death in that war at last, than consent to the peace they offer! Tell me where I may send a Knight to carry them this answer? They may be found, replied the Embassador, in the Boiling Lake, which is in the Isle of Mongaza. I know not the manner of these Giants, quoth Lisuarte, whether a Knight can go amongst them safely? That, replied he, doubt not; where Don Quadragante is present, no wrong can be committed: I will be his warrant. In God's name! said Lisuarte, now tell me who you are?--Landin, the son of Quadragante's sister. We are come to revenge the death of King Abies of Ireland, and greatly it grieves us that we cannot find him who slew him, neither know we whether he be alive or dead. Quoth Lisuarte, I would you did know him to be alive and well! all would then be right. I know wherefore you say thus, replied Landin; you think him the best Knight living, but, be I what I may, you shall find me in the battle with King Cildadan, and see what I can do against you. I had rather have you in my service, answered Lisuarte; but there will not be wanting those who will oppose you there.

Meantime Florestan's anger was rising. Knight, said he, I am a stranger in this country, and not vassal to the King, so that there is no quarrel between us for what you have said to him, nor do I undertake it because there are many Knights in his household. But, you say, you seek for Amadis, and cannot find him; that I believe is not to your loss! but if it please you to do battle with me, who am Don Florestan, his brother, let it be with this condition: if you are conquered, you shall give over the pursuit of vengeance; if I am slain, your wrath will in part be satisfied, for whatever sorrow you feel for the loss of King Abies, that and much greater would Amadis endure for my death. Landin replied, Don Florestan I perceive you have a heart for battle, but I cannot satisfy you now, being bound to return with this embassy on an appointed day, and also having pledged myself to undertake no enterprize before the battle; but, if I come from that field alive, I will meet you in the lists. Landin, quoth Florestan, you answer like a good and honourable Knight, as you are bound to do; let it be as you have said. And he gave his gloves in gage to the King, and Landin gave the lappets of his armour; and the day for their combat was fixed for the thirtieth after the battle. Lisuarte then sent a Knight called Filispinel with Landin to carry his reply, and they departed together.

When they were gone, the King said to Galaor, and Florestan, and their cousin Agrayes, you shall see something that will please you! and he sent for his daughter Leonoreta to come with her little damsels and dance before him, as she used to do; a thing which he had never ordered, since the news that Amadis was lost. She came, and the King said to her, Daughter, sing now the song which Amadis, being your Knight, made for your love. So the child and the other young damsels began to sing.

The song of Amadis has suffered much in this second translation, this "shadow of a shade."

VILLANCICO.

Leonoreta, fin roseta, blanca sobre toda flor, fin roseta, no me meta en tal cuyta vuestro amor.

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